


Slipped.

by metope



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, bit of an angst fest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 04:39:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4046302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metope/pseuds/metope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>kinda uni AU.</p><p>Lexa is a sad and lost little soul who is home for the summer for the first time since going to university. After a big loss Clarke has moved back home and is finding her feet as an interior designer when she scores her first big job with Lexa's overbearing mother. They both separately decide that they are off limits to one another but naturally spend the summer being one big hot pining mess.</p><p>Also, Raven and Bellamy have totally got a thing going.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slipped.

**Author's Note:**

> Even though this is geographically set in the U.S, I'm from Australia and prefer to keep my Australianisms in my writing so sorry if that's a bit unsettling.

Lexa blows out an indignant huff as she straightens her back, her legs stinging a little from her prior crouching stance. The sun is high in the sky, she guesses it must be just a bit after midday and she has been working with her father on the roof all morning, the heat of the day seeping into her skin and radiating up from the tiles beneath her feet. She clambers over to where her water bottle is perched precariously and allows herself a brief respite, lifting the hem of her shirt up to wipe at the faint line of sweat forming on her brow. She surveys the section of roof she has managed to completely restore over the past few days; it is discouragingly small, taunting Lexa with the promise of more back breaking days to come. 

She narrows her eyes in thinly-veiled annoyance at the top of her father’s head which bobs in and out of sight from where he is working on the other side of the house before allowing herself to lean back fully into the roof’s incline, tilting her head back to gaze at the clouds languidly raking across the sky. While she did not question her father’s ability or skill as a builder, she was not entirely sure those capabilities extended themselves to the art of roof restoration. Her frustrations were only half-hearted though, for she struggles to think how much worse her summer at home would be if it weren’t for the fact she was spending each day too busy to think and her nights too exhausted to remember.

To remember how last summer and the summer before that had been markedly better.  
How they had been spent tangled up in the sheets of the girl she loved. How she’d felt truly at home despite being thousands of miles away from the structure she now sits upon.

But that was before; when Lexa could still call Costia her’s. 

And this was now. 

Now Lexa laid claim to nobody and Costia had long since left her behind.

Which is why she found herself home for the summer for the first since leaving for university, the extended visit every bit as nauseating as she had anticipated. Her moping had made her feel somewhat conceited, on paper she didn’t really have a lot to complain about; very simply put her family was wealthy. Though originally from humble beginnings; her mother had inherited a large estate when Lexa was too young to understand the implications of such a thing. Her father had continued his trade as a builder, not allowing their fortune to make his career redundant and was only now retiring as his back and knees struggled under decades of hard work. His retirement coincided with her mother’s need to completely renovate Lexa’s childhood home, a project her father had been only too willing to take on; seemingly forgetting the point of retirement. Lexa could only gently admonish her father though for trying to run his failing body into the ground. She knew that he would want to go out swinging, that spending his twilight years pottering around their town spelled a fate worse than a slipped disc or blown knee. In any case the renovations provided Lexa with something to bide her time with, to keep her from lurking the lonely hallways or torturously enduring her mother’s luncheons, entertaining guests at her mother’s request.

Her mother. 

Plainly speaking her mother was the true reason Lexa stomach hung low with trepidation from the minute her semester had ended. It was not to say that Lexa disliked her mother, more so that she could not reconcile the woman who gave her life and that she was programmed to love with the tightly lipped and dismissive woman who kept Lexa firmly under her thumb. With the inheritance had come a sudden shift in her mother’s priorities, the once normal housewife thrown into a world rife with status and unspoken expectations. Lexa can still vaguely remember the simple woman her mother was before she rose to a self-imposed challenge to become an equal amongst the elite. From then on her mother’s world revolved around charities and committees, her social ladder climbing eventually stratifying her through the ranks of local council and eventually onto the role of mayor. Through it all had been a persistent and unwavering belief that Lexa and her sister Anya needed to try twice as hard, to always do better than the trust fund kids they had joined ranks with. For the Woods children there was a duty to prove that they belonged in the upper class realm and not to jeopardise the hard work their mother had put into cementing them amongst their new peers. 

Lexa had taken that duty seriously and had always remained studious, ambitious and above all else careful. Careful of what she said and how she looked, from the way she braided her hair to the people she considered friends. She was careful when she turned fifteen and realised that she was entranced not by clumsy hands and boyish grins but by soft curves and slender wrists. She was careful about everything until she met Costia, where far away from prying eyes and her overbearing mother Lexa had allowed herself to indulge in what she had spent years resigned to merely dreaming about.

She had informed her parents of Costia and the nature of their relationship for she knew they would not personally object to Lexa’s interest in girls. But that was where her expectations ended as she knew the sentiments that rippled through many of the organisations and committees her mother operated on; sentiments which could make Lexa’s sexuality potentially fatal leverage if aired in the open. While she had expected nothing more after years of conforming to perfection in order to placate her mother and aide her pursuits, to know she could not return home as anything other than the seemingly normal girl who left, had stung.  


It had stung then and it still burned hotly now as she swallowed down her simmering rage every time one of her mother’s friends asked if she’d found a boyfriend at university. It screamed like a thousand tiny lashes when she was expected to sit through lunches with a not-so subtly placed son of a committee member by her side. Every time Lexa had to neatly fold herself back into the box she was meant to fit into, was like rubbing salt into the already tattered and frayed edges of what was left of her after Costia had transferred.

It hurt so much that after bearing just a week of the rolling punches following her return that Lexa had felt herself become numb to the onslaught. Indifference in the face of suffering was perhaps equally as exhausting a battle as letting herself feel everything crashing down around her but at least this way was less painful. It was all too easy to merely move through the motions when each day was a simple repetition of the one before. Putting one foot in front of the other was all that she could rely on at the moment, clinging to the hope that eventually her mindless stumbling would bring her out the other side of summer break.  


Until then, Lexa would wake each morning and join her father in whatever task he was tackling that day, revelling in the way all of her would ache when she crawled into bed at night. The dull throb that lingered with every movement enough to somewhat distract her from the fact that the bed was too big. 

Empty. Cold.

Berating herself internally for allowing her mind to wander to such dangerous territory, Lexa propelled herself back up to get on with her work. The sudden movement and the angle of the roof below her caused her to stumble slightly, knocking her water bottle over and sending it barrelling down the slope where it promptly disappeared off the edge. Lexa waited for the expected thud of it landing, her stomach twisting sharply when she heard only a strangled high-pitched yelp come from the ground below.

She scurried to the edge of the roof quickly, peering down at a girl she’d never seen before standing startled, Lexa’s water bottle crumpled at her feet. The girl wrenched her head up quickly, Lexa’s view of her slightly dishevelled blonde hair replaced with the sight of piercing blue eyes. Lexa felt her apology die somewhere in the back of her throat as the other girl’s eyes bored into her own, even from where she sat perched meters above. Lexa felt pinned in place, her limbs equally as useless as her voice until the other girl spoke up, bursting her brief illusion of immobility.

“What the hell, you could’ve killed me!”

Lexa scaled the ladder propped up against the wall with practiced ease, turning to face the girl who was gesturing harshly at the apparently lethal projectile, emphasising how close it had come to hitting her. Lexa reflexively began to apologise but for the second time since she had heard the girl’s yelp, it never eventuated. Lexa was a little annoyed to be honest, it had clearly been an accident and Lexa had no reason to expect somebody would be walking underneath.

“I’m sure your head would’ve broken its fall,” she delivers in a level tone, her eyes narrowing to match the other girl’s glare.

Seemingly taken aback the response, the girl who Lexa noted was slightly shorter than her jutted her chin out and set her shoulders back, eyeing Lexa with equal parts contempt and outrage. Lexa also noted the girl was undeniably quite attractive in a pretty, girl-next-door way, allowing her eyes to briefly wash over the other girl’s figure. It was soft and welcoming but delicate all the same, a stark contrast to Lexa’s own hard and sinewy exterior. Lexa quickly disallowed her mind from straying as it looked like the other girl was about to speak again, words that Lexa was sure she would not want to hear.

“Can I help you with anything?” Lexa all but drawled, her manners and enunciation failing her briefly, “is there a reason why you are loitering in my work area?”  


She could’ve sworn she heard the other girl huff petulantly in response which was enough to elicit a smug smirk out of Lexa.

“Actually I was on my way to an appointment with Mayor Woods before you almost beheaded me,” she glanced at her watch before meeting Lexa with a cold gaze, “you’re going to make me late.”

At this Lexa raised an amused eyebrow. Clearly she didn’t realise that ‘Mayor Woods’ was her mother, given her current state of attire – tool belt and all, Lexa figured she must have appeared to be a tradesperson of some kind. Not the daughter of this girl’s client.

“Yes, my mother does very much dislike it when people are late to their appointments.”

At this the blonde’s eyes widened dramatically as Lexa assumed she came to the realisation of who she was talking to. Normally she would not participate in antagonising a complete stranger, let alone find a sense of amusement in it. But this girl had been the first person to speak to Lexa since she came home without the pretences and subtle ass-kissing that dominated the warped charade that was her life here and Lexa kind of revelled in it. 

It was refreshing.

“Y-your mother? Fuck,” the girl reeled with panic in front of Lexa, all sense of bravado gone, “I mean shit – sorry! I’m sorry. God, I had no idea who you were.”  


The girl nervously yanked her fingers through her already wilted hair, the tenacity of the movement suggesting that she’d probably been doing it all day. Lexa watched as the other girl slowly overcame the initial round of panic, breathing in deeply as she steadied her hand and thrusted it out toward Lexa.

“You must be Alexandra,” she declared smiling warmly, “I’m Clarke. Clarke Griffin.”

Lexa eyed the other girl’s hand sceptically, wondering how she knew her name but accepted it in a firm shake nonetheless – she wasn’t a caveman after all.  


Clarke. She let the name play around in her mind, trying to place where she’d heard it before. As she retrieved her hand from Clarke’s she recalled her mother briefly mentioning over an otherwise silent dinner last week about her meeting with the new interior designer. A girl who was apparently only Lexa’s age but already making some big waves in her field, her mother securing her before she became ‘too relevant’. 

Whatever that meant.

“It’s just Lexa please,” she responded politely, thoroughly sick of all of her mother’s friends and colleagues referring to her with a name that had become so foreign to her ever since she left for university.

“Lexa,” the girl repeats, staring at her fondly before breaking her gaze, “I’m sorry about my, uh, outburst. I promise I’m not always so grouchy, I’m just –“  


Lexa frowned as she watched the other girl stumble all over her words and pause, clearly flustered.

“This project is kind of a make or break for my career, you know? I’m just really nervous about stuffing it up and I guess it’s getting to me more than I thought.”  


Clarke ducked her head, clearly embarrassed about the events that had transpired in the last five minutes as her hand reached up again out of habit to run her fingers through the hair that bordered her face.

Lexa shrugged, not really sure how to deal with the emotional rollercoaster that was the girl in front of her. She decided to ease off the antagonising and spare Clarke anymore distress as Lexa was fairly certain her hair was going to start coming out in clumps any second now.

“That is understandable Clarke,” the blonde’s eyes shoot up to meet hers as Lexa’s mouth eloquently forms her name, “allow me to escort you inside. It would not be prudent for you to be late.”

Clarke just nods dumbly in response and falls into step behind Lexa as she leads them to the front door. Now that the initial moment of surprise has worn off, Lexa is acutely aware that she is dressed only in a sports bra, running shorts and bulky work boots, her long curls thrown in a haphazard bun and her body smelling of a distinct mix of sweat and sunscreen. It was not exactly her best look and she was sure her mother would admonish her for making a poor first impression if she were here. Though if Lexa was being honest, the thing disturbing her the most was the way she could feel her skin prickle under Clarke’s gaze behind her, a blush creeping up the back of Lexa’s neck as she felt all too exposed.

As they reached the front door, Lexa came to a halt and wrung her hands awkwardly as she faced Clarke, appreciating the way the dip of her collarbone was somewhat visible beneath her blouse and – 

No. Lexa dropped her hands and averted her gaze, reaching out to ring the doorbell and regarding Clarke coolly.

“I will not intrude on your meeting with my mother. I’m sure you can take it from here…” she trails off jerking her head slightly in the direction of the door before stepping off the stoop and beginning to make her way back to the ladder.

Clarke straightens as Lexa walks passed her, clearing her throat before calling after.

“It was nice to meet you, Lexa.”

She paused, turning to look over her shoulder momentarily, nodding in response.

“Likewise,” she replied, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth before hesitantly adding, “sorry about the water bottle by the way.”

She heard Clarke laugh airily behind her as she walked away; ignoring the way the sound caused her stomach to clamp uncomfortably and her palms itch with the promise of sweat.

*********

Clarke let out a long deflating sigh as she pulled up outside her apartment building, turning the key in the ignition until the rumblings of her car ceased beneath her. Her head dropped to rest on the steering wheel almost of its own volition, a dull thud beginning to emanate between her eyes as her mind whirled over the day’s events.

Her appointment with the Mayor had gone relatively well despite her shaky start, Clarke’s cheeks still flushed slightly with embarrassment as she thought back to her run in with her client’s daughter.

Lexa.

The name had buried its way into her mind, burnt on the tip of her tongue in an unspoken desire to utter those two syllables again. The notion was equal parts ridiculous and mortifying given the short amount of time she’d spent with the other girl, the majority of which had been spent arguing over a stray water bottle.  


But god, the girl had been attractive. Her legs, long and ridiculously toned had made even her worn and bulky construction boots look hot and the way her sculpted arms had flexed as she’d crossed her arms in annoyance had begged Clarke’s mind to drift off into dangerous territory.

And her eyes, full of bite and amusement, yet it was their colour that had had Clarke hooked, rich green of a shade she could not for the life of her figure out. She would be lying if she said that colour would not now haunt her as she sifted through samples and designs, the artist in her itching to find a tangible recreation of what Clarke did not know was her favourite colour until today.

She let out a loud, pathetic groan as that embarrassing thought flitted across her mind, the sound reverberating in the empty shell of her car.  
She really needed to get laid. A kiss would probably suffice at the moment. All she knew was that it had been much too long, evident in the way she was allowing her sexual frustrations to manifest on her client’s daughter. Who Clarke could definitely not sleep with by the way, unless she wanted to bury her career in the ground before she’d even started.

She kept that in mind as she gathered her things from the passenger seat and began to trudge up the stairs to her apartment, repeating some sort of pathetic mantra in her head with each step.

_Lexa is not attractive. I don’t want to sleep with her. Lexa is not attractive. I don’t want to sleep with her._

Deciding there was no point in lying to herself, Clarke made a few adjustments as she started on the next flight of stairs

_Lexa is attractive. But I will not sleep with her. Lexa is really, ridiculously, unfairly attractive. But you can’t fucking sleep with her you idiot._

Yelling at herself via inner monologue had only made her more irritable by the time she reached her door and Clarke speculated if this marked the point where she had fully descended into insanity. Though, if she was being completely honest she’d probably been there since the moment she’d beared witness to Lexa descending down that ladder in shorts that she was fairly sure contravened most workplace health and safety regulations.

As she jiggled her key in the lock she heard the sound of Raven’s laughter through the door, grateful for perhaps the first time in weeks to come home to something distracting. She’d lost count of the amount of times she had had to physically remove her roommate from the apartment while she’d been compiling a brief for the Woods job, Raven’s concept of appropriate levels of volume and personal space had never been one of her strong suits. 

Balancing the door on her hip as she shuffled her way inside Clarke immediately wrenched her feet out of her only pair of ‘I-am-a-sensible-adult’ heels which had been biting into her feet all day, flinging them with reckless abandon into the apartment. She grimaced only slightly when she heard one collide with the coffee table, knocking some papers over the edge, scattering themselves all over the living room floor. Everything she was wearing suddenly felt ten times more restrictive now that she was in the comfort of her own home and she hastened to dump her bag on the floor, hands now free to pull apart her ‘business casual’ attire as she made her way to her bedroom.

“Raven you better have made something for dinner, I am fucking _starving_ and had to clean up your crap this morning when you left for work,” she bellowed as she fumbled with the buttons on her blouse, referring to earlier in the day when Raven had left some sort of engine part deconstructed all over their kitchen bench.

She peered into the kitchen as she passed it, finally undoing the last button of her blouse and wrenching it out from the pencil skirt it was tucked into, meeting Raven’s gaze from where she was standing behind the island bench.

“Jesus Christ Clarke, were you raised in a barn? We have company…” Raven trailed off, gesturing to the other inhabitant of the room currently sitting at their bench.

Clarke froze for a moment before rolling her eyes.

“It’s just Bellamy,” she stated narrowing her eyes at the boy in question, “and he’s drinking our nice beer like he always does so he can deal with my poor etiquette.”

“Nice to see you too princess,” he smirked, raising aforementioned nice beer up to her in greeting, “although I never said I wasn’t enjoying your choice of entrance.”

Raven sniggered playfully and Clarke muttered expletives at the both of them while retreating to her room down the hall. Clarke was glad it had only been Bellamy that she’d indecently exposed herself to; it was nothing that he hadn’t seen before during their many years of friendship. The three of them had been friends all throughout the messy business of high school and even though Bellamy had stayed in DC while they’d gone to university, they had always been able to slip back into their easy dynamic. Clarke doesn’t know what she would’ve done without him when they’d come home after the accident, the way he’d slipped back into their lives like nothing had changed had been exactly what she needed. 

When she couldn’t even look at Raven without the fear of losing any sense of composure she had been clinging to, Bellamy had been there and shown Clarke that Raven wasn’t going to break into a million jagged little pieces, that she was still Raven. Clarke had lost herself in those first few months home and Bellamy had been the support Raven had needed when Clarke couldn’t give it to her; he’d given her the time she needed to be weak. And for that she had an even more profound level of appreciation for really the only man left in her life.

She smiled sadly as she kicked the last of her clothes onto the floor beside her hamper, pretending to herself that she would actually put the pile where they belonged sometime in the near future. She rolled a few stubborn kinks out of her shoulder as she sifted through what little clean clothes she actually had, slipping into a baggy T-shirt and a pair of sweats that were probably only a day or two overdue for a wash. She padded back into the kitchen while scooping her now limp and greasy hair into a poor excuse of a bun, slipping smoothly into the stool beside Bellamy.

“There’s no need for you to get all dressed up for me Clarke,” Bellamy ribbed playfully, before meeting her gaze, “I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

“Stop putting the moves on me Blake, it’s getting a bit pathetic,” she threw back, swiping his beer and taking a long, hard swig for good measure. 

“Don’t worry blondie, you’re not my type,” he reassured her before reclaiming his beer, smugly holding eye contact while he drained the rest of the bottle.

A plate clattered against the bench and Clarke looked up to catch Raven serving up pasta a bit more aggressively than necessary.

“If you two are done being fucking _weird_ , dinner is ready,” she said without looking up at them, shuffling over to the sink and dumping the pan in along with the rest of the dishes they’d collected over the day.

Clarke smiled discreetly to herself because even though it was obvious that Bellamy had only been messing with her and Raven certainly knew that, it hadn’t stopped her from getting a bit jealous. She wasn’t really sure what was going on with those two at the moment despite them being more or less her family. Of course the two had gotten a lot closer over the past two years but she wonders if maybe somewhere along the way they’d become more than that. She knew they’d slept with each other a few times but Clarke had just accepted it for what it was and joined them both for breakfast unquestioningly in the morning afters. Clarke was curious, yes but not enough to pry for she knew it was always a sore spot with Raven ever since the accident, since Finn. She was sure that was the only thing holding them back by now, for Raven to be able to let go and move on.

Bell would never push her though. He was careful with her, quietly observant and a shoulder to lean on when she needed it but he knew that she didn’t need fixing and that there are some things that just can’t be fixed anyway. Raven was healing the best she could, the shell of the girl that had returned to DC gradually fleshing back out into some sort of semblance of what she’d been before the night that had almost destroyed her. Almost destroyed both of them.

Smirking at the sight of Raven’s broody pout and rigid shoulders, Clarke stood up to get her plate, crossing to the other side of the island bench to plant a surprise kiss on the other girl’s cheek successfully interrupting her from the bubble of jealousy she was shrouding herself in.

“Thanks Ray, it looks great,” Clarke murmured softly as she retrieved her meal, the sight and smell of the generous serving of pasta reminding her of just how hungry she had been all day.

“Yeah well it’s just pasta, not rocket science,” Raven replied gruffly before shooting Clarke a sheepish look as she sat down, subtly acknowledging her brief moment of immaturity without giving Clarke the satisfaction of a confession.

“Anyway, how did today go?”

Clarke shot her a knowing look as Raven swiftly changed the subject but obliged all the same.

“I don’t know it was okay I guess? Like, she was down with a lot of my ideas and we went through the brief room by room so I have a better idea of what I’m working with…”

She trailed off hesitantly, not sure if the other two really wanted her to dump all of her work angst on them.

“But?” Bellamy probed sensing that she hadn’t told the whole story.

Clarke shoved her pasta around the plate absent-mindedly, the sense of dread invoked by thinking about her current project putting a substantial dent in her previously ravenous appetite.

“But her house has so many rooms! And like, I’ve only really done single rooms or living spaces before which were stressful enough and now every time I think I might be on top of everything I need to do for this project I remember ten more things that have come up and also I think I might have offended her daughter so she’s probably going to fire me anyway so maybe I just shouldn’t worry about it and start looking for a job now.”  


Clarke took in the widened eyes of her friends, clearly not anticipating her minor meltdown.

“Sorry,” she murmured, taking a bite of her pasta as she worked herself up to continue, “I’m just really worried about this job, maybe I shouldn’t have taken on such a high profile client so soon.”

“Hey,” Bellamy squeezed her knee reassuringly, “you’re gonna do fine Clarke, just fine.”

“Bell’s right Clarke, I know it seems scary but you’ve got this,” Raven stated soothingly, her eyes soft and sympathetic, “you just need to believe in yourself as much as we do.”

Clarke smiled at her friends, shaking her head softly at her brief lack of composure.

“Thanks guys, I know logically this will be great and that my ideas are good but I think maybe this afternoon was just a lot to take in.”

“Good,” Raven replied, glad to see her pep talk had its desired effect, “but what did you do to offend her daughter? Was she hot?”

Clarke chuckled as she took her empty plate to the sink, Raven keen to ask the burning questions as usual.

“I kind of yelled at her for knocking a water bottle off the roof which nearly landed on me,” Clarke’s faced burned up again as she recounted the story, “I didn’t realise who she was and was such a jerk, guess I kinda stuck my foot in it.”

Raven cackled at this, all too willing to take pleasure in her best friend’s embarrassment while Bellamy opted for insincere sympathy, his eyes giving away his amusement.

“Shut up,” Clarke bit back petulantly, pouting as she made her way back over to the bench, “she was really hot too which made it so much worst.”

“Better keep it in your pants Griffin,” Raven admonished while throwing her a playful grin, “that’s the Mayor’s daughter you’re talking about.”

“God, I know Raven,” Clarke retorted, giving her a half-hearted shove, “Lexa is one-hundred percent off limits, I’m not even vaguely entertaining the idea.”  


Clarke busied herself cleaning up the papers she had knocked off the coffee table earlier, keen to no longer be under Raven and Bellamy’s microscope.

“You so are though Griffin,” Raven taunted, smirking knowingly.

Clarke pegged one of their expensive throw pillows at Raven’s head which Bellamy intercepted swiftly while on his way to the sink, rolling his eyes at the two.

“Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to bed,” Clarke informed them in mock annoyance, purposely throwing a bit more weight behind every footstep than necessary.

“Night, princess,” Bellamy offered from his place at the sink, cleaning up the excessive amount of mess Raven had managed to leave from making a simple pasta dish.

“Yeah, sweet dreams and all that Griffin,” Raven threw over her shoulder as Clarke faux-stomped her way to her bedroom, “but not _too_ sweet if you know what I mean.”

Rolling her eyes at that last jab as she closed her door behind her, Clarke begrudgingly let Raven have the last laugh as she was simply too exhausted to bite back.

She threw herself down dramatically onto her unmade bed, all of her muscles letting out a collective sigh of relief as her mattress enveloped her in its soft hold. The interior designer inside of her hated that she never made her bed but it wasn’t like anybody else saw her bed except her, nobody to impress with a false impression of tidiness.

She fumbled with her phone under the covers, making sure her alarm was set for tomorrow before leaving it to charge on her side table. She wasn’t looking forward to the six-am start but god knows she has more mood boards to create than any one person should ever have to.

She smiled sadly into her pillow at the sound of scraping chairs and the clinking of beer bottles, the apartment shaking ever so slightly as the pair moved from the kitchen to the couch. Their voices were too muted for Clarke to decipher the nature of their conversation but she could detect Bellamy’s warm tone and Raven’s breathy laughter. She rolled over, sighing at how she was pathetically wishing she had someone to hold close like they did, someone to help keep all of her pieces together when she was falling apart. It was an unhealthy thought; she knew that and she had had it seared into her brain ever since she lost Finn to never need somebody that much again as clearly she hadn’t gotten the memo the first time after her Dad died.

It didn’t stop her from wanting somebody though. Somebody worth making the bed for, somebody to have her back during her shit-slinging matches with Raven. 

Clarke tried not to make a habit of thoroughly depressing herself before bed but as she buried her way deeper under the covers, it seemed like she had failed once again.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll do better, she proposed to herself sleepily as her eyelids became increasingly heavy and her limbs limp.

Maybe tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, let me know what you think!


End file.
